


Take the idea and run!

by LRMatthews



Category: Death Note, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, come and get 'em!, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 17:04:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9617084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LRMatthews/pseuds/LRMatthews
Summary: Plot bunnies available for adoption! Some I've written a bit for, some I have no idea what I was doing with, but I'd love to see them find good homes! Feel free to take one and go with it! And I'd love to see what you come up with - link back or hit me up with a PM. Have fun!





	1. Guinevere Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is an L/Light DN no-Kira AU. I really don't remember where I was going with this. This bit was the "prologue." Presumably I was having them get back together in some capacity. Maybe they would have worked on a case together. Not sure. :\

“I think you know this is the way it should be.”

L stood just inside the doorway, shoulders casually rounded, hands in his pockets, gazing resolutely at the floor as though this were any old conversation requiring only part of his attention. He managed to keep his breathing even despite the unbearably tight feeling that was slowly compressing his chest.

“Is there someone else?” he finally asked after a long silence, making the clichéd question sound no more critical than a query as to the day’s weather. A very soft, rather unamused-sounding laugh had him looking up at the other person in the room. The one causing this horrible constriction and the sensation that the world was crumbling.

“No,” Light answered quietly. “I’m not sure there is really anyone for either of us.” The words hurt, probably all the more so for the truth ringing in them. “We’re not exactly wrong, L, but … that doesn’t mean we’re right, either.” He looked no less composed than L, but L could read the pain in his eyes. Still … he was right. It wasn’t wrong but it wasn’t right and it was time for it to end.

“Maybe … maybe we will find someone, someday,” Light added even more quietly, seemingly more to himself than to L. L almost laughed – this was the best he’d done after twenty-nine years; it didn’t seem like he’d have any better luck with one failed relationship under his belt. “We’ll certainly never find out clinging to each other.”

“Was it so bad?” he couldn’t stop himself asking, recognizing that it was spoken out of a mild desperation.

“No, L … it wasn’t really … anything.” And that fairly well summed up the past few weeks of their co-habitation.

It had started out passionately enough. Arguments tended to be heated, after all. Somewhere in the midst of all the bickering, debating and near-physical confrontations, the spark of attraction had ignited and flared into desire. There had followed coffees, lunches, dinners and eventually actual physical confrontations in the form kissing and touching and the things that naturally occur thereafter between two consenting and aroused adults.

With this promising start and what seemed continued interest, they had gone so far as to move into together, in a tentative sort of way. The apartment was one of many L kept at random in various parts of the world and therefore was not particularly settled in to. Light moved the better part of his own essential belongings in and stayed there with L (when L was actually there) while retaining his former apartment, which he tended to use when L was gone for extended periods.

It was during this peaceful cohabitation that the feeling of wrongness began to creep in, though they both stubbornly ignored it for as long as they could. There were no squabbles over who would vacuum and who would wash the dishes. There were no complaints about dirty socks in odd places or hideous pieces of décor. There were no tiffs about who got which side of the bed or whether their alarm was set to a radio station or the End of the World siren.

There were also no moments spent cuddled up on the couch, recounting the mundane details of their days or past experiences. There were no laughs shared while trying to prepare a meal together, the activity degrading into attempts to distract and hinder through tickles and friendly swats. There were no calls to each other in excitement over an upcoming event that had been anticipated for months.

Quite simply put, there was just no true connection.

Because of that, the newness and initial passion had faded. Grief over actions faded to mere disappointment. Anger to irritation. Love (if it had ever been truly present) to a sort of fondness.


	2. DN Movie AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An eventual L/Light AU where L, Light and Misa are all movie stars. L and Light have just been cast in a movie (the plot is "Death Note", their names taken from their Japanese seiyuu) and UST and then resolved UST happens. :D It's meant to be humor/romance undoubtedly with some angst. The bits here are non-linear and random.

Of course Light had been pleased at the first phone call he received that day. Alright, more than pleased. He was pretty freaking happy and planned on celebrating with Messrs. Moet & Chandon later that afternoon and possibly well into the next morning.

But it was the second call that he truly got excited over.

“Dude!” the normally baritone voice practically shrieked in his ear, “I got it!”

“Which one?” Light demanded breathlessly.

“Are you ready? Are you sitting down? Are you on the edge of your chair? Are you—”

“L, you sadistic bastard, just tell me already!”

“I am … Ke!”

The squeal Light let rip from his mouth was purely masculine, thank you very much.

“No way! I just heard back, too. I’m Tatsuya!”

“Ah ha ha ha ha! Sweet! We get to play enemies! Think you can manage it? I know how much you love me….”

“Screw you,” Light retorted with a broad grin. It was an old joke of theirs although they hadn’t actually been in any kind of production together since one tiny little TV spot shortly after graduating performance college.

******

When L and Misa saw each other they both shrieked in entirely girly ways and ran into each other’s arms like long-lost lovers, giggling and yammering a mile a minute. Light’s reaction was rather less positive – namely pretending to retch behind Misa’s back where L could appreciate the gesture but it would be hidden from Misa. L make a face at him and pulled back from the blonde who turned, her arms sliding off L’s shoulders, to direct a cool look at Light.

“Light.”

“Misa.”

Light had never been entirely sure why they didn’t get along. Granted, he didn’t know her terribly well. L and Misa had met when she picked up one of his flyers advertising for a roommate sometime after graduation when they were all struggling. The only reason Light himself hadn’t taken the place was that he’d landed a room at an aunt’s and the deal was far too sweet to duck out on, even to help out a friend.

So instead Misa and L shared his tiny two bedroom apartment and seemed to get on quite well from the start despite Misa’s somewhat fanatical need to keep things organized, neat and tidy and L’s just not caring about such things. According to L, Misa was bright, self-confident, talented, and had a sense of humor nearly as morbid as his own.

For some reason, Light never saw this side of Misa. Well, except for the “bright” and “self-confident” parts and those mostly tended to take form in her snidely correcting him when he’d gotten something wrong. In other words, he found her to be an insufferable know-it-all. Honestly, it almost seemed personal but he hadn’t done anything to her. He couldn’t have. Light didn’t even know her before the first time L had introduced her, about three months after they’d been living together.

Yet from the first there had always been some strange kind of glint in her eyes when Light was around, starkly contrasting to the sweet looks she gave L. There was nothing between the two of them – that was fairly obvious and L would have told Light anyway – it was more a protective vibe, like a sister looking out for the best interests of her brother. And why she had decided that Light was apparently not good for L, he just didn’t know.

******

Quillsh Wammy, or “Watari” as he insisted they call him, was cast into the role of Shunji Fujimura. Light hadn’t heard of the man before but was grateful to have met him now as he proved to be a delightful dichotomy – both a gentleman in front of the ladies and yet the perviest old man Light had ever encountered, specializing in a repertoire of limericks that was not to be believed for its sheer number and the dirtiness of some of its subject matter. All delivered with a twinkle in his eye and a kindly smile curving his lips which just made the lurid things spilling from them all the more disturbing.

****** 

“Maybe I should go around like this then.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, L had flipped himself up onto his hands, grinning inanely at Light as he took small awkward “steps.” Light, watching his movements for the opportune time to yank on the chain and send his friend tumbling, was suddenly distracted by the stretch of skin that had been exposed by L’s antics.

“Shit, man,” Light exclaimed involuntarily, gaping stupidly. L looked up (or, from his perspective, down) to see Light staring and dropped back onto his feet with a grin.

“I know, right? Check me out.” He whipped his shirt off over head, leaving it wrapped around his right arm. “They wanted me to lose some weight, make me ‘bonier’ was the term, I believe. But I’m still ripped.” And then L posed with a ridiculously overdone expression.

Light had to admit he was right, though. L had never had what one would call a solid build – he’d always been lean – the lines and shadows of his musculature were even more apparent with the reduction of what little body fat he’d had to begin with.


	3. No-Pants Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DN crack, set during the chain arc. This whole thing started because I hate wearing pants to bed (even pajama pants) and hate when my husband does as well. So I decided so does L, while Light staunchly insists on wearing pants. So L comes up with an absurd set of "rules" for the "club" Light now finds himself involuntarily joining. Romance ensues, of course. I created all the rules, just not the story to back them up.

_Rule #1: Absolutely no pants of any kind are permitted to be worn in designated areas._

Yagami Raito was a creature of habit, a condition which had suited him quite well for his eighteen-plus years of existence. He was not so fastidious that a break in his routine sent him into fits of panicked rage, but he preferred to keep things scheduled as much as possible. Quite simply, it just made life that much easier. Never having to worry about having enough time to accomplish this or that, being tardy, becoming burdened with more than he felt he could handle or any other unpleasantries.

So to have a plan for the week was ideal. For example, nine weeks ago, when Raito began attending university, his schedule was this:

He awakened early enough to have plenty of time to take care of his morning toiletries, dress and check to see that he had all the needed materials in his bag before descending to the kitchen for a light but balanced breakfast. He would then walk the twenty-five minutes to the train station, generally arriving about five minutes early. A ten minute train ride and then another ten minutes of walking brought Raito to the campus where melded into the crowd of students, nodding easily to those around him, sparing a few words for those familiar to him.

His class schedule was heavy but not unmanageable, allowing him a break around 11:00 for lunch and ending at 15:30 or 16:00 depending on the day. That was followed, of course, by the fifty-five to hour-and-ten journey home (as determined by the train schedule) where he greeted his mother and then headed straight up to his room to study while everything was fresh in his mind.

Usually, Raito was able to accomplish about two hours or so of study before his father came home and he was called down to dinner. After dinner was more studying until approximately 23:30 when he readied for bed and slipped beneath the sheets for a night of rest before the next day when it all started over.

This was only a general schedule, of course. Raito didn’t spend every minute studying or attending class. He took occasional breaks, read the paper, watched the news or the odd program (usually something interestingly educational), surfed the internet. Friday and sometimes Saturday evenings were often devoted to tutoring Sayu in various subjects, although said tutoring sessions tended to eventually degrade into simple sibling companionship time.

Though he was not particularly close to anyone, Raito still had acquaintances that requested his time which he gave without fuss unless he knew he could not spare it. His father also sought some of Raito’s free moments to obtain aid on or just review police cases with him. Raito gladly accepted these interruptions as investigative police work was the field he was intending to pursue upon graduation. Any real life experience would be step toward that future, he felt.

He’d also been considering joining a club – mostly likely tennis even though it had been quite some time since he’d played for any organized group – but he hadn’t yet gotten that far.

 

******

 

The Slight Social Faux Pas That Turned Out To Be The Worst Thing That Ever Happened To Raito Because The Other Person Involved Was An Utter Lunatic. Or, more simply, “That Thing.” [Uh, not sure where I was going with this.]

 

******

 

_Rule #2: This is a private club and may not be discussed with non-members except in the case of recruitment. Membership is by invitation only._

_Rule #3: Dues are collected for membership. The form of the dues is to be determined by the recruiting member._

Raito briefly considered having L take off the chain for a bit, of course, but ultimately decided against it, for a couple of reasons. First, there was really no reasonable explanation they could give to the rest of the team for that. Second, it just didn’t seem in the spirit of fair play to Raito. Not that he thought being chained in the first place was exactly fair play, but he had agreed to it and intended to keep his word. After all, at least one of them should maintain some degree of honorability some of the time.

_Rule #4: Any member in violation of Rule #1 will be disciplined. The member who witnesses the violation may determine the form of punishment._

_Rule #5: Any disputes between members will be resolved by simple majority vote. In the case of a tie, the senior member has precedence. However, the challenging member may bring in an outside arbiter, but no details concerning the club may be given to this person._ [I believe I meant for the arbiter to be Watari.]

_Rule #6: If discipline is warranted in the case of any dispute or grievance, the form of said discipline is to be determined by the winning party._

_Rule #7: Membership is for life and cannot be rescinded. However, members are allowed to be part of multiple clubs._ [Really can't remember what the other "club" was supposed to be.]


	4. The Gryffindor Lion Must Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HP/DM, cutesy, crackish, fluffy, schmoopy, all that good stuff. Probably some kind of AU ignoring most of the bad stuff that happened. Established HP/DM, this was going to be a snapshot kind of thing. Draco had given (mostly as a jest) Harry a stuffed lion with a shirt that says "Someone in Gryffindor Loves Me" and is jealous that Harry tends to snuggle with it when he sleeps. So he plots against it. The stuffed animal. Because why not? Then some kind of heartfelt discussion and expression of feelings, yadda yadda. :)

Let one point be absolutely crystal clear: Malfoys are not, have never been, and will never be snugglers. That sort of thing may be perfectly acceptable and even expected out of a certain class of person but Malfoys are quite above that sort of commonness, thank you very much.

So Draco was not glaring at the young man snoozing in his bed because he was _jealous_ of the object he was curled around, jealous that that wasn’t Draco instead. No, he was simply irritated because … well, he was Draco, damnit. He _deserved_ the attention, even unconsciously given.

A gentle sigh rustled from under the sheets and an unruly head of black hair suddenly appeared on the pillow as Harry rolled onto his back, pulling along the thing his arms were loosely looped around which took the opportunity to stare gloatingly at Draco. As much as a Muggle stuffed animal could stare in a gloating fashion, anyway.

The worst thing about this was that _Draco_ had been the one who’d given the stupid thing to Harry in the first place.

At some point, some person (likely who had Muggle relations) had gotten it in their head that imitating universities’ selling “school spirited” items was a brilliant idea. It had started small – everyone knew someone who knew someone who had the wares, usually carrying them around in expanded cloaks they seemed to take a perverse pleasure in flashing open in darkened corridors.

Then someone outside the school (Draco suspected the Twin Weasels) started financing things and it moved from strictly underground to “that thing that only select persons know about but really everyone does,” relocated to the Room of Requirement as much more space than could be fit under several cloaks was needed.

Now the merchandise was varied and many and – Draco thought – mostly bloody awful:

Pewter goblets cast with the Hogwarts seal and emblazoned with false gemstones in the colors of a person’s House; a trading card series specifically limited to the wizards and witches who’d ever taught at Hogwarts (one generally netted ten Gilderoys or five Binnses to one McGonagall or Hooch, and Dumbledores were nearly unheard of, hoarded viciously like gold); shot glasses which would light up with a House’s colors and cheer its name in a horridly tinny voice which sounded very much like a house elf a few tankards into the butterbeer.

There were silver charms which could be affixed to the end of a user’s wand, either with a badger, lion, raven, snake or boar. There were wells of ink which would only write in the colors of the user’s House (for those who’d attended a school other than Hogwarts, it was always a mucky rusty brown). There were toy Quidditch brooms and false prefect and Head Boy or Girl badges. There were kitschy tapestries depicting the exterior of Hogwarts which reflected the weather currently affecting the school, a pitiful version of the school’s own Great Hall ceiling.

But perhaps worse than the tacky and the ridiculous and the completely unnecessary were the cutesy. Child- and baby-sized Hogwarts uniforms for younger siblings or, Merlin forbid, your Kneazle or Crup.


	5. SPN prompt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just ... no clue at all here. So sorry. I'm thinking it had to do with Samuel Colt. Maybe John Winchester

A hundred and fifty years ago a man wandered into the desert in the wild and unorganized expanse west of the formal United States. He could have been formed from the place itself: his clothes, long coat and hat were dusty and dirty, colorless and frayed. Deep lines marred his weathered face, half of them buried under two weeks’ worth of coarse, unkempt beard. The only points of brightness on him were his eyes and they were terrible in their own way.


	6. Sam prompt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SPN, some kind of Sam-centric thing. :\

One male, so many different things. How shall we describe him?

He is a man.  
He is a son. He is a brother.  
He is a lover and beloved.  
He is a friend. He is a passing stranger.  
He is a savior. He is damnation.  
He is death. He is a Hunter.

All this to others, many who see fragments, very few who see all.

He is tall.  
He is strong.  
He is swift and graceful. Most of the time.  
He is powerful, in body and spirit and mind.  
He is beautiful.  
He is mature and boyish.

But who is he?

He believes in doing right even when he doesn’t know what that is.  
He sees shades of grey despite being raised in blacks and whites.  
He is strong enough to stand alone but has no wish to.  
He holds tightly to what he finds precious but knows when to let those things go.  
He sees possibilities, eventualities, inevitabilities, and often wishes he didn’t.  
He is confident in his skills and unsure in his presentation.  
He raises his voice when needed and grits his teeth when it is not.  
He loves with all his heart and gives as much as he can, though pieces have been lost along the way.  
He is a supporting pillar, steadfast but needing bracing against tremendous blows.  
He has born grief, been torn to pieces, broken apart time and again only to be put back together, again and again. And to what end?


End file.
